I sat down at my computer and nearly had a heart attack: Chrome was front and center and in incognito mode.
Oh crap, I thought to myself. What did I leave open?
I quickly scanned the open tabs and breathed a heavy sigh of relief when I failed to find any pornography. My wife understands that I occasionally view adult content and she claims to be perfectly fine with it. She claims it is healthy, like going for a walk. Nevertheless, despite her acceptance, I feel compelled to hide the evidence as much as possible.
If it is not porn, then what is it? I saw four tabs and none of them were mine. My wife was on the computer last; she must have been aiming to hide her tracks but forgot to hit the tiny white ‘x’ in the upper right hand corner.
Why would she want to browse the web in secret? She could not possibly be up to something. We have been together for years; sure, we have had our ups and downs, but we have persevered. Our relationship has been pretty transparent and, as far as I could tell, we were great at communicating our problems with each other.
The four incognito tabs suggested otherwise.
I did not need this: I could feel the maddening creep of paranoia pulling me in irrational directions.
I am just stressed out, that is all, I thought. Work is a living hell. I loath everything about it: my boss, my coworkers, the endless Excel spreadsheets. All these emotions I was experiencing were simply my brain externalizing my anxiety onto my innocent wife.
But the uncertainty. . . It felt like a stomach ulcer, one that I could easily fix.
I had to look. Just a quick peek.
I know, I know—this was an egregious violation of the sanctity of marriage. An enduring relationship is based on a bedrock of trust. The mere act of unsanctioned snooping undermines this trust.
But still. . . I was so curious. She has never left an incognito window open before, let alone four. The nagging pangs of jealousy felt like toxins in my bloodstream. I wouldn’t be able to calm down until I learned the truth.
I opened the first tab: “Grandma’s Chocolate cupcake recipe.” The website went into explicit detail describing how to bake two-dozen perfect cupcakes. Chocolate, butter, sugar, eggs, flour, baking powder, salt, milk and vanilla. Not even the barest hint of infidelity.
I could feel the anxiety instantly leak away. So that is what she is up to! My birthday is tomorrow and she knows how much I adore baked goods.
I actually felt a bit guilty. I should have trusted her; instead I ruined a loving birthday surprise. I decided I would not say anything: I would mock surprise with an Oscar winning performance. These are amazing! I would say. You know me so well!
A niggling worm at the back of my brain reminded me that there were still three more tabs.
No! Not again! I had already ruined one birthday surprise. I was not going to do it again. Once more I could feel the onrush of anxiety rising up; my chest tightened and my focus wavered. One quick peek would not hurt. . .
I was not always like this. My job has me jumping at shadows. My boss constantly denigrates me in front of my coworkers, and they just join in, laughing and mocking me. I used to be laid back and happy-go-lucky; now I was overly suspicious, always looking over my shoulder. It is amazing the extent to which a hostile work environment can change your outlook on life. Every night I have to ingest a narcotic cocktail of prescription sleeping pills and vodka just to settle down.
I convinced myself that I could not function until I checked the next incognito tab. I was not in the mood to fight it. Besides, I already looked once. . .
*
The next incognito tab was titled “Flavorless poisons.”
I froze. In an instant I was awash with both shock and disbelief. Why the hell was she researching flavorless poison?
I scanned the website: it described in detail various concoctions that could be used to secretly kill. It documented cyanide and arsenic and highly toxic substances made from potatoes, nicotine and rotten meat.
There was an extensive write-up on ricin, an extraordinarily toxic substance derived from castor oil beans. According to the website, the unstoppable death spiral of an exposed victim begins with vomiting and diarrhea; it resembles food poisoning but with ample amounts of blood. These symptoms are soon followed by severe dehydration, low blood pressure and brain-rattling seizures. Within a few days, the liver, spleen and kidneys stop working, resulting in an excruciatingly painful death. Apparently, a dose of ricin as small as 0.3 mg can be fatal. Exposure can occur when ricin is touched, inhaled or ingested in food.
That last line stuck with me. Why would she be looking at recipes and poison at the same time? It did not take monumental mental gymnastics to put two and two together: she was planning on poisoning me on my birthday.
No, this is nonsense! I thought. I was making massive assumptions here. Maybe she was curious. Everyone Googles stupid questions. Yesterday, I Google’d whether guinea pigs farted. I had no motivation beyond silly inquisitiveness; I just wanted to know. Google does not punish dumb questions. I was being suspicious again.
The next tab would determine the truth of the matter.
*
The third tab was titled, “How to make ricin at home.” The page gave detailed, step-by-step instructions on how to prepare the poison. There were pictures, diagrams, and a handy video guide.
So this is her plan! I thought. The tutorial seemed pretty easy to follow and for all I knew she had already brewed up a batch somewhere. Maybe there is a cup of ricin waiting for me in the fridge right next to the milk.
Nonsense. It is not like we have bucket loads of castor oil sitting around the house. Unless I could prove otherwise, her efforts at poisoning me were exploratory.
I had to calm down. I could hear the words of my boss echo in my head: “Why you always so anxious? Is there something wrong with your brain?” He was an asshole, but maybe he was right.
One tab to go. It all came down to this. No point in hesitating now. I clicked on it.
It was an order form for castor beans. The words, “Thank you for your order!” dominated the center.
I could not believe it*.* There is nothing worse than having your paranoid delusions affirmed with concrete and undeniable facts. A part of me still held onto the belief that my concerns were all a fantastic construct within my imagination; but then I looked back at the tabs and the truth was undeniable. All doubt was sucked out of my mind: she was planning on poisoning me.
I heard the sound of creaking floorboards behind me. I quickly closed the browser window.
My wife leaned into the door frame. “You coming to bed soon?”
It was nearing midnight. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a moment!” I said.
There was no way I was going to fall asleep by natural means. I went into the kitchen, poured myself a glass of vodka and opened the medicine cabinet. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills and went to bed.
*
The next morning, standing in the kitchen next to the rumbling coffeemaker, my wife kissed me on the forehead and said, “Happy birthday hon, I’ll have a BIG surprise for you when you get home tonight!”
“Aww, you don’t have to do anything special for me!”
No, really, please don’t!
I went into work with my future poisoning lingering in my mind.
Somehow my coworkers found out it was my birthday. They used the opportunity to ridicule me and call me ‘old man.’ They took things from my desk and hid them. When I politely asked for my stuff back, my boss said, “What stuff? Looks like someone is coming down with Alzheimer's!”
Then they sang their own unique rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ at lunchtime. Instead of the word ‘Dear,’ they inserted the line, ‘Worthless piece of shit.” It all felt coordinated and rehearsed. On a normal day I would be traumatized; today it barely registered.
*
After work, I returned home and my wife awaited me at the front door. “Happy birthday!” she said before giving me a big hug. Along the wall she hung a decorative banner with my name on it.
“Thanks babe,” I said with little enthusiasm. I looked and felt sour. I did not feel like dying today, but I did not want to let on that I invaded her privacy.
“Rough day at work?” she asked. “Well, I have a surprise that will cheer you right up.”
I put my hand up and stopped her before she could continue. “How about I make us a pot of coffee first?” I asked.
She smiled and squeezed me again. “Ahh, well, even though it is your birthday, you do make much better coffee than me!” I watched her disappear into the dining room.
How could she be so positive and upbeat? She was about to murder me!
I was not going to die quietly. I had a plan: if she was going to poison me, I was going to return the favor and take her down with me.
I made two equal-sized cups of coffee; then, I went into our medicine cupboard and grabbed a nearly full bottle of my prescription sleeping pills. I ground them all up into a fine powder. By this point the coffee had finished brewing so I filled both cups with steaming liquid. I filled her cup with the ground up pills, then I added creamer to both cups.
I brought both cups of coffee to the dining room. My wife sat at the table smiling contentedly at me.
“Thanks! I love your coffee. Did I ever mention that?” She took a large swig and placed her cup on the table. I sat down beside her.
“Time for your surprise!” She drew back the cloth that covered the table. In front of us were a dozen, delicious looking cupcakes.
“I know you have been stressed out with all those douchebags at work, so I wanted to make you something special.”
“These are amazing!” I said. “You know me so well!” I did not realize I was such a good actor.
I held the deadly morsel in my hand and examined it closely: it looked like a benign cupcake and it smelled like it was fresh from a professional bakery. How could so much evil reside in such a delightful treat?
I guess it was time to die: I took a huge bite, stuffing the cupcake into my mouth. It was delicious, everything that a cupcake aspires to be.
I wondered how long it would take for the poison to kick in. Would it be gradual or sudden? Would I fade away peacefully in my sleep or be violently wrenched kicking and screaming into death? I ate the whole thing and swallowed every crumb.
“Ready for your second surprise?” She pulled back another towel and unveiled another dozen cupcakes.
“More cupcakes?” I asked.
“Special cupcakes,” she said. “I want you to bring these ones into your work and leave them in your lunchroom. You must promise me that no matter what you will NOT eat one of these cupcakes.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because they are laced with ricin! I want to make your work situation better, so I figured bioterrorism was the way to go!”
“So, the cupcake I just ate, was that poisoned too?”
“No! Goodness no! Why would I poison my sweetheart!” she said, swallowing the last of her coffee.
“Thanks!” I said, “I really appreciate it. I’ll bring them in tomorrow and kill them all!”
What have I done!
She gave me a hug and retreated into the kitchen. I grabbed one of the ricin cupcakes and shoved it into my mouth. I replaced the gap with one of the non-poisoned treats.
I should have trusted her. I should never have checked her incognito tabs. And now I have killed her. At least I wouldn’t have to live for very long with the guilt!
I felt beyond horrible. The only thing that would help now was a glass of milk.
---
Credits
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